Being single for the first time since I was in high school has been weird for me.
When I had been married for 5 years, I started seeing stories in the news about all the inappropriate things kids were doing on the school bus and learned what a “rainbow party” was. And it freaked me out. When I was in high school, there were still grungy riot grrrls who wore black eyeliner, knew who Mia Zapata was, didn’t take any shit or do anything they were told and guys still thought they were hot.
So when I found myself back in the world of dating, I think there was a huge learning curve. The first guy I spent more than one date with, let’s call him “Section V” because sadly, the last section of my thesis revolves around the fumblings of feeling something for him, this someone besides my ex-husband. Turns out, a year later, he is a manipulative, lying douche bag.
Oddly, I can talk about my dating life with my ex-husband (Yeah, yeah. It’s weird. We’re FREAKS. Whatever. Judge all you want…it’s just how it is) and he made the observation that perhaps my abilities to find a decent non-douche bag were not very good as I first stumbled out of nine-and-a-half years of marriage. And I think (I can hear the ex-husband patting himself on the back now…sigh) he is right. I just needed a guy who would say the right things and let me cook him dinner so I could feel domestic again. I was douche blind.
But on the upside, these events of crashing and burning with “Section V” and other men have made for great metaphorical weirdness in my poems. Men say some pretty crazy shit. Men also do some pretty crazy shit and women (I am talking particularly about me here) don’t do much better. But I am lucky because I find interactions between humans, especially those trying to care about each other (or giving the illusion they care) horrifyingly fascinating. Weaving together human contact is imbedded in the core of humanity and man, that isn’t easy. To give you a metaphor: you have to wander through the corn maze and sniff a lot of pumpkins before you learn to tell which one TRULY isn’t rotten. Apparently, I like finding a foul smelling gourd and then writing about it.
It is in these times, post-relationship and trying not to hurl eggs at his house, I can sit down and write a poem to focus. And the restraint in trying to use language to pinpoint my missteps, figuring out how exactly to juxtapose my perceptions against his actions in the relationship, and organizing it all brings about a reflective place inside me where poems can grow. Even if they are just about apple pies, hotel room doors closing or what his note said when it was over.
So, to those men who have mingled with me this past year: take heart…at least I wrote some poems about you.
Oh, B. It doesn't just take divorce to be douche blind. I, too, can attribute my major male interactions over the last four years to the need to be a domestic goddess. Hell, it wasn't even that. It was the need to be needed. I don't have kids (which is good, since I can't imagine having to interact with any of the men I've dated on a regular basis that didn't involve me going at their jugulars) so for me I've made myself needed in my friendships and relationships. Way not healthy.
ReplyDeleteI have a friend who told me a story which has sort of become my to gauge if a relationship is going to go anywhere. In high school, her three best friends were all men. They supported her and gave her courage and strength. She started seeing this guy of which her guy friends heartily did not approve. When they confronted her with the fact that he was a MORON, she replied, "he opens doors for me." They were shocked, but since this guy seemed to have some deep side they didn't know, they supported her judgment. Until, that is, they found out that what she truly meant was that he literally opened physical doors for her. "We do that!" was the collective reply, and that was that.
The story has stuck with me because I'm an absolute sucker for chivalry. Especially when he is willing to admit that even though I AM Superwoman, it goes against every fiber in his being to let me open the door first. That said. If it's nothing more than chivalry, if he can't open metaphorical doors for me...then I'm going to find out sooner or later that in the end I was simply douche blind, yet again.
Stay strong! They can't ALL be douches. I hope.
Thanks for the support, Ginnith. Chivalry got to me with "Section V" too. The ex-husband wasn't much for that sort of thing which probably stemmed from the fact that I was much more fierce back then. I lost a little bit of myself somewhere, but I also have to accept that I have grown and changed and, perhaps, that is why I am not as "firece" anymore. I like to think that I am a riot grrl in a more mature way now. :)
ReplyDeleteThe douche blinders are especially strong when you're vulnerable, for sure. Sounds like you got em off now, though. And you're still fierce--there are all kinds of ferocity, my friend. Think Claire Huxtable when Elvin says something about her getting Cliff a sandwich. Oooo-weeeee!
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